


(Not) Ugly

by throwashadow



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Homophobic Language, Implied Sexual Content, Implied self-injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:23:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throwashadow/pseuds/throwashadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murderface lost his bet to Skwisgaar, who has to make it right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Not) Ugly

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from hatebeat. Decidedly unbrutal.

"Skwisgaar." Ofdensen approached him, eyes invisible behind the glare of his glasses. "Congratulations, I guess I should say."

Skwisgaar swallowed. He'd know that tone in any language, and it meant he'd done something wrong. He looked up from his guitar. "For whats?"

"Oh, I supposed I should inform you of the, ah, situation that is currently underway." He straightened his tie. "Come with me.

"Oh boys." Skwisgaar carefully set down his guitar and followed.

Charles led them to his office and sat Skwisgaar behind his desk, next to him. "You know, Skwisgaar, I have no sympathy for you right now."

Skwisgaar still didn't know what was going on, and felt a buzz of anxiety until he saw Charles cue up a frame of security footage on his computer. The picture showed Murderface's room. Skwisgaar tensed further.

"This is probably worse than you think it will be." His tone was cooler than usual. 

But he was right. The video was disturbing. William sat at the edge of his bed with his face in his hands, shoulders bucking with sobs. He was naked. His knife was next to him. And his leg was bleeding.

"Wells," Skwisgaar said quietly. He wanted to act like this was stupid, no big deal, just Murderface being himself. But he knew that their bet had something - everything - to do with this. They'd bet on who could sleep with the most women in two weeks time. This was day fourteen, and Murderface had a grand total of zero. 

"I don't think I can make this right, Skwisgaar," Charles said, still watching the footage. "I know this is your doing."

"Ja, I did...agrees to his bet."

"I think you better apologize." Charles closed the window and shut off this moniter. "Now."

Skwisgaar knew it wasn't fair, but he'd agreed to the bet anyway. It was fun to make Murderface angry, and it was just another day in the life for him, having as much sex as possible. Bets weren't supposed to be fair, or else no one would win. 

But he knew that none of these ideas would help him at the moment, as he stood outside of the bassist's bedroom door.

"Moidaface?" He called feebly. "Whats you up tos?"

"Go away! Fuck off!" It was muffled by the door, and further by his choked voice.

"Uuuh...Moidaface, I ams real sorrys about whats happen." Skwisgaar was not equipped to deal with this. He hardly spoke to Murderface when he was in a normal mood, and this was him at his worst.

"Sorry isn't gonna make me any less FAT!" he sobbed.

Was it about that, then? Skwisgaar couldn't decide if that made this easier or harder. "Listens, just lets me ins. I wants to talks to you." 

The door swung open. Skwisgaar was glad to see that William had put on shorts. His face was red, eyes a little swollen. He sniffed deeply. "What," he said firmly, before going back to the edge of his bed.

"I's very sorrys about the bets. It was...how say, stupids move, means of me."

William turned away, arms crossed. "Ofdensen put you up to this."

"Nos, nos!" Skwisgaar swallowed." I just really hates to sees you likes this!"

William looked over his shoulder, swiping under his nose with a finger. "Whatever, Blondie. Not like you care, everyone in the world loves you."

Skwisgaar sighed and marched over to sit next to him. "Moida...William. Yous gots to see. People likes you. They justs...mostlys doesn't knows how to show it to yous."

"Yeah right, people like me! The most brutal bassist in the world and I can't even get a prostitute to sleep with me. Skwisgaar," he sniffed, his voice catching a little. "You have no idea what it's like to be ugly."

He had never seen Murderface this vulnerable. This wasn't like his normal complaining. These tears were real, and they were coming from somewhere deep. And Skwisgaar had drawn them up. He offered a tentative arm around his shoulders, feeling sincere pity.

"You're rights. I don't knows whats feels like ugly. But Willy, it's not abouts what yous look like."

"God, shut up! So easy for the beautiful people to say that!" He crossed his arms again but didn't protest Skwisgaar's, looking at his lap as if he didn't want to know the arm was there. 

"William...yous real stupid." He put his other hand to William's cheek and tilted to barely brush his lips with a kiss.  
William looked at him. "Faggot," he said flatly.

"Sos ams you."

William narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips as if looking for something to say. Instead, he leaned in awkwardly for another kiss.

Skwisgaar ran with it, wrapping both his arms around William's waist, drawing them closer. He bit William's lower lip, which drew a gasp from him. 

"You ams not ugly, Willy," Skwisgaar said into his neck. "Yous just a faggot." He pushed him backwards to lay on the bed, and knelt on top.

"I don't know why you're doing this," Murderface said, reaching up to touch Skwisgaar's face. He stroked it as if it were a vase in a museum. "Or why I'm letting you." But he looked completely fascinated. 

"Shh," Skwisgaar said, bringing their faces close again. "I's just think you need to know, we don'ts really hates you." He kissed down his neck.

William pushed his calloused fingers between the strands of blond hair. "Really?" His eyes were still a bit glassy.

He pulled at the waistband of William's shorts. "Nots at alls." 

It was slow, because William was so nervous. The cameras, he'd complained; the stains; wouldn't it hurt?

Skwisgaar was patient. This must be his first time, he thought, trying not to be judgmental. But it felt a lot more special than Skwisgaar's usual brand. William seemed hungry for embraces, and for kisses.

 

Ofdensen took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead. "Deactive security cameras in Murderface's chamber."

 

When it was over, they lay next to each other, close but not touching.

"You know, I still kinda feel like piss."

"It gets better, Willy. But you gots to stop hates yourself."


End file.
